Peace
by AndromedaStarr
Summary: Upon Severus Snape's death, he meets his guardian angel and is faced with a choice: move on, or go back? SnapeLily, slight SnapeOC. I promise you it's not as bad as it sounds. Read and review.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: AU fic. Upon his death at the fangs of Nagini, Severus Snape meets his guardian angel and gets to make a choice like Harry's – whether to go on or whether to go back. Narrated by an OC, but don't let that turn you off.

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns everything you recognize. I own what you don't.

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I've known him for what feels like forever.

I know the way his hair falls into his face, the way the corner of his mouth curls when he's amused by something, his dry and altogether morbid sense of humour. I know the long pale fingers, the clean line of his collarbone, the way he wraps himself in robes as a defense against the prying eyes of humanity. I know that he likes to go barefoot when he's at home, I know that he decries Muggle music but adores Regina Spektor, I know that his walls are solid and his boundaries unending but that his heart has wings. I know he yearns to be loved but that he will deny it until the very ends of time.

We were eleven years old when we met on the train to Hogwarts. He was a sallow, hook-nosed boy with hair that did not get washed as often as it should. His robes were secondhand, as were his books. He loved magic more than anything in the world. He craved power because he had never had any in his life, he craved love because he had never known it. All his life, the darkhaired boy in the corner, soon to become the teenager killing flies in his room. All these things I saw as I looked into the compartment, the boy with his head against the cool window, hair hanging like a curtain in front of his face.

"This seat taken?" I asked.

He seemed surprised that I had spoken to him. I don't know what he made of me, the tall girl in the doorway with pale blue eyes and long black hair in a braid to my waist. Possibly I was just a spectre to him, some kind of apparition that had no basis in the physical world.

"No," he finally said, and turned back to the window.

I stowed my trunk myself. It wasn't heavy; I didn't own much. I didn't force conversation either, absorbing myself in the book on Defense Against the Dark Arts for a good fifteen minutes. It wasn't feigned interest either, because I too had a deep interest in magic. I was no stranger to it, even though a halfblood, since as far back as I could remember my father had been charming pots and pans to do his bidding in the kitchen.

I lowered the book, regarding him over it. "What's your name?"

Again, the unguarded surprise before the façade of disinterest fell over his dark eyes. "Severus Snape."

"Nice name," I said. "I'm Anaia Zephyrine." And I went back to the book.

Another ten minutes passed in silence, with me becoming thoroughly engrossed in the Charms textbook, and then he asked, "What House do you think you'll be sorted into?"

I laid the book in my lap, considering the question. "Gryffindor or Slytherin," I said, "but more than likely Slytherin. Gryffindor is for brave fools and tragic heroes. I think the Sorting Hat will take one look at my mind and put me with the rest of the ambitious."

Snape frowned, for the first time showing anything less than complete self-possession. "Sorting Hat?"

"That's how you're sorted into Houses," I told him. "You put on a magical hat, it looks into your mind, and then tells you where to go."

"Oh." He returned to looking out the window.

I allowed myself a tiny smile.

The door to the compartment slid open, and a pale boy with grey eyes and white-blond hair stood in the doorway. He looked from myself to Snape, sneered, and then sat down in the seat opposite me. "Zephyrine. Didn't think you'd make it to Hogwarts. You're about as magical as a toad."

"Hello, Lucius," I said cordially. "Strange, my father wasn't surprised."

"Your father is an insult to the magical world," Lucius Malfoy spat. "Mingling with Muggles, pissing around with crossbreeding. You have a pureblood last name, but that doesn't change the fact that your blood is filthy."

"Yes, yes." I turned the page. "I'm a Mudblood. Spare me your insults, I've heard them all before."

Malfoy wasn't finished, however. I'd known he wouldn't be. "You can put wine in a fancy bottle and call it a pretty French name, Zephyrine, but none of that will change the fact that its base component is piss."

"Nice to know you recognize your humble beginnings, Mal-foit." I gave his name the French pronunciation.

Malfoy was livid. I had actually never seen colour in his face like that before. "You wait until we get to Hogwarts, Zephyrine. You just wait. All the better if you're sorted into Slytherin. I will make you regret –"

"Would you shut it!" Snape had finally been annoyed enough to snap out of his lethargy. "If you've got to bitch at each other, find another bloody compartment!"

Malfoy stared at Snape, and then forced his face to relax. "Lucius Malfoy," he said, and held out a hand. "I'm a third-year."

Snape regarded Malfoy's hand with disdain. "Severus Snape."

I managed to find my Potions textbook and began to read.

"How can you share a compartment with _her_?" Malfoy asked, not being at all delicate about the sneering emphasis he put on my pronoun.

"She wasn't bothering me," Snape said pointedly.

Malfoy clenched his jaw, gathered his voluminous robes about him and stood. He looked strange, a thirteen year old boy playing dress-up. "I'll leave you two lovebirds alone," he said snottily, and flounced out.

I snorted. "Breath of fresh air, isn't he?"

"You know him?"

"Against my will. The Malfoys are one of the oldest and Darkest pureblood families in existence. Can't you tell? He's got those generations-of-inbreeding-to-keep-the-bloodline-pure ears."

The corner of Snape's mouth twitched. "What was that he called you? Mudblood?"

"Yes. It's an extremely derogatory term for halfbloods – people with one magical parent. My father's a wizard, but my mother was a Muggle." I frowned at a strange Latin term in the book. "Most of the purebloods recognize that your heritage doesn't make a lick of difference to how magical you are, but some families are still hung up on the purity of blood for reasons I can't really fathom."

Snape was quiet for a time, and then he said softly, "I'm a halfblood."

"I know," I said, and looked at him. "I can see into people's minds. I don't mean to do it, but it happens anyway. My father said it's called Legilimency. It's apparently a very advanced form of magic. He said I'm fortunate to be able to do it naturally and at such an early age."

Snape looked almost alarmed. "What else can you see?"

"Your memories. Almost your entire life. Whatever you remember, whatever you think." I closed the book and set it aside. "There's a way to counter it, I think, called Occlumency. They seem to go hand in hand – I can get into people's minds, but they can't get into mine. Useful little thing."

"Yes," he said enviously. "I wish I could keep you out."

"No point now. I've seen everything. And my grandmother was a prophetess, so I can tell a bit of the future." I crossed my legs at the ankles and looked at him. We were almost to Hogwarts; the train was slowing. "You're going to be sorted into Slytherin. You're going to become the youngest Potions Master in history. You're going to –"

"All right!" A brown-haired head craned around the compartment door. "Come on, first-years. We've reached Hogwarts!"

"What else?" Snape asked desperately, hauling his trunk down from where he'd stowed it.

"A lot of things," I said. "So much is going to happen to you, Severus Snape. Ask me later, when we've got time."

He never asked me later, because there was never time. Before I knew it, I'd been sorted into Gryffindor – the Headmaster's only explanation for that was that the Sorting Hat sees things we cannot – and he'd been sorted into Slytherin and we hardly ever saw each other. He fell in with Lucius Malfoy and Evan Rosier and that whole lot who were destined to become Death Eaters. It's strange knowing the future. Takes all the suspense out of life.

Everything happened as I'd seen it would. He fell in love with Lily Evans, became a Death Eater, found himself having to protect James Potter's son. It was pitiful, perhaps, but he never asked for pity. Nor for help. This was his penitence; it was his redemption.

And then I saw his death, and I had to do something. I couldn't let it continue. He didn't deserve it. So I did something. I invoked all the magic I knew and I sacrificed my own life to become a guardian angel of sorts. And I know I won't regret it. If his life's purpose was to watch over Harry Potter, my life's purpose was to watch over Severus Snape.


	2. Chapter 2

I know this man. I've known him for what feels like forever. Watching him lying there on the grass, it breaks my heart a little. And then he stirs, and sits up groggily. "What in –" And then he sees me. He takes a breath. "Zephyrine."

I smile. "Hello, Severus."

He places his hands on the grass, running his fingers through it. "Where –" He stops. It comes back to him. He touches his unmarred neck. "I'm dead."

"Perhaps." I'm leaning against the tree, legs stretched out in front of me. A gentle breeze ruffles my hair. I like his choice of location. "Perhaps not."

"What do you mean, perhaps not? I remember everything. Voldemort. The snake. Potter."

"Yes." I tilt my head back. The sun is warm, the breeze is cool. I could stay here forever. "You did well, Severus. Very well indeed. Albus is so proud of you."

Snape frowns. "When did you die?"

"Not long ago," I say. "Moments before you did."

"How?"

I smile. "I had to be here."

"Why you?"

I know what he means. Why me to come to him, why not Lily. "I'm your angel, Severus. Insofar as there are angels, insofar as you have one. I died to save you."

He looks uncertain. It's a strange expression to see on his face. Reminds me of that boy on the train. We've come so far since that day – or have we? "To save me? I cannot be saved. I'm past redemption."

"No." I shake my head. "You've already been redeemed. You gave your life for love, Severus. You dedicated yourself to it all these years, you died for it in the end. Love. Of all things, the most noble and worthy purpose there is."

"And you?" He looked at me. "What did you die for?"

"The same." I smile. "I know you have questions, Severus. I can see them in your mind. Ask."

"Did you see this, all those years ago on the train? Did you see everything?"

"Not all of it was clear. I saw choices. I guessed which ones you would make. Mostly I was right. And it's not just Albus – you've made me proud as well."

He lies back on the grass, closing his eyes against the sun. He doesn't see the point in maintaining the shield anymore. Little by little, it comes down. "Is she happy?"

"Yes. She loves James. She's glad to be where he is. And she thanks you for saving her son. She owes you more than she can ever repay."

"She doesn't have to repay," he said softly. "I did it for her."

"She knows."

He rises on an elbow, looks at me. "What now?"

"You make a choice. You can move on, or go back. Each has its merits. The decision is yours to make."

"If I move on –"

I answer the unspoken question. "You will not be with her. Your places are separate. Hers is with him, his is with her. Yours is different."

Snape makes a vaguely annoyed noise. "What's the point of going back?"

I merely look at him. "To live, Severus. To be free from the burdens which were placed on you before. To live your life as you were meant to."

It clicks. "You can see the future," he says, and aims one slender finger in my direction. "Who wins?"

I shake my head. "I cannot say."

He sighs, and falls back on the grass. "I should've known you would say that."

"You know who wins, Severus," I say with gentle amusement. "You know as well as I."

"Yes." And finally, a faint smile. "Then I did not die in vain."

"You need not die at all." I close my eyes, lean my head back against the tree. I feel great age and wisdom in its rough bark. "There is still time. Move on, or go back."

Turmoil in his mind. A frantic whirlwind. Searching, searching. "Did she ever love me?"

"As a friend." I open my eyes. "Always as a friend."

"Never more."

"As you say."

Snape debates. I see the flow of his thoughts, a swift and rapid wind swirling like a maelstrom, tearing apart everything it touches. "And you."

"And I what?"

"Did you ever love me?"

I laugh. "How can you ask me that when I died for you?"

"Why?" His eyes are troubled. He does not understand.

My answer is simple. "You were worth dying for."

His gaze wanders across the grass and into the pale November sky. It is a beautiful day, and he is a beautiful man. Long white toes curl into the green fronds. This light is strangely kind to him; he looks delicate and well-made, not rough and harsh as other minds have thought. His hair is clean, his brow near unlined. But then, I am only seeing him as I have always seen him.

"I cannot decide," he says.

"Move on, or go back," I tell him. "Your choices do not include staying here."

"I cannot choose."

"You must."

He looks at me. "Choose for me."

"I cannot." I sigh. "Severus. I died so that you might have a chance to live. If you do not wish to go back, you do not have to. If you wish to move into the peace and the light, do so."

"I don't know what I want. I have never known." Snape shifts on the grass, his first sign of discomfort. "I cannot decide, Anaia."

My breath catches in my throat. He has called me by my name. "Severus. You can still change things. You can impact upon the battle. You can go back and fight. You may possibly die. Or you can leave all of that behind and move on."

"Either way, I will not see her. Perhaps in going back I can redeem my –" He stops. "I forgot. I am already redeemed."

"Yes. Harry Potter has forgiven you. Once he has had a little time to sort things out in his head, he will look upon you as the bravest man he has ever known. He will..." I lower my voice. I should not be telling him this. "He will name his son after you."

Snape's black eyes widen. "What?"

"Albus Severus. And he will have Lily's eyes."

"Merlin," he whispers. "Lily's eyes."

"Are you going back?"

He wrestles with himself. It is a collision of pride and guilt and love and loss and heartrending pain. "Yes," he says at last, and rakes his fingers through the grass. "I will go back."

"Then this is goodbye."

"Wait." Once more, surprise on his face. "Goodbye?"

"Yes. Where you go I cannot follow."

Snape shakes his head. "No."

"I traded my life for yours," I tell him. "This was the point. This was the purpose. It was always about you, never about me."

He stares. "Selfless. Were you always like this?"

I smile. "Perhaps."

"I regret not knowing you." He looks away. "Are you sure you cannot come?"

"Severus," I say with aching tenderness. "It is a far, far better thing I do, than I have ever done. It is a far, far better rest I go to than I have ever known."

Snape nods. The pieces fit. His face is lit from within by the serene glow of complete understanding. "I will come back," he says. "When I do, my place is with you."

I smile. "Thank you," I say quietly. "You have given me peace."

"I give you only what you have given me." He stands, his robes swirling around him. "For all that you have done...thank you."

"Goodbye, Severus," I call, but he has already disappeared, and again I am on my own.

I know this man. I've known him for what feels like forever. I already see the new determination in his mind, the new strength. The way everything he sees now seems more beautiful than ever. I am thankful to have known him, I am thankful for the sacrifices he has made. Thankful more than anything that my sacrifice is worth so much. I would gladly do it all again, gladly lay each and every one of my veins open and die a horrible, agonizing death just to hear those five words.

_My place is with you_.

Yes, Severus. I have my peace. Now go find yours, my love.


End file.
